


Two Birds, One Stone

by amyoatmeal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas Doing the Most, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Crack Treated Seriously, Dinner, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Crack, Holidays, M/M, Valentine’s Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 08:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyoatmeal/pseuds/amyoatmeal
Summary: Castiel wants Valentine’s Day to be perfect for Dean.  He decides he’s going to cook.  How bad could it be?
Relationships: Background Sam/Eileen - Relationship, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 78





	Two Birds, One Stone

**Author's Note:**

> This is so dumb, but I’m not going to apologize because it’s not my fault. Blame Misha for opening his big mouth 💙 (also the cockles joke was unintentional lmao)

Valentine’s Day was important to humans, that much he’d come to understand from all his time spent watching humanity, but for the life of him, Cas couldn’t figure out why. The Roman’s celebrating Lupercalia he got, despite the blood and ritual animal sacrifice, but he failed to connect the dots between the concept of romance and the brutal beheading of a Roman Catholic Saint. Perhaps it was because, until now, Cas had just been single for all the others, but he and Dean were together now. Properly. And Dean deserved that much, at least.

Setting his book aside, Cas fixed his sights on Sam, who was still seemingly engulfed in his own lore, until he felt the inerrant staring in his peripheral vision. “Sam, can I ask you something?” 

Sam looked up then and flinched at the look of intense consternation pinching Cas’ face, taking the hint to set his own book aside as well. “Uh, sure, Cas. What’s up?”

“This weekend is Valentine’s Day,” he said gravely, clasping his hands together in his lap.

Glancing around the empty room, Sam’s mouth ticked up in the corner. “Was that the question?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “No,” he sighed. “But I- I’ve never ‘celebrated’ Valentine’s Day,” he said, complete with finger quotes. “This is my first one, I suppose, and I guess I was curious what it is you humans do to… well, celebrate.” The smile spreading across Sam’s face only grew to irritate him.

“You’re asking me what I think Dean would like?”

“Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Jeez, I dunno.” Scratching the scruff on the side of his face, Sam leaned back in his chair and let out a long, low huff. “Honestly, man, I don’t think Dean’s ‘celebrated’ either. Not properly, anyway. Back in the day, he used to hit up a dive bar and try to score with chicks. ‘Unattached Drifter Christmas,’ he used to call it.” He shook his head and laughed to himself about the time Dean caught something called ‘the clap’, but Cas didn’t join him. He sobered quickly enough. “He hasn’t done that in a while though,” he amended, clearing his throat. “Not since, uh, well, you know.”

Cas nodded. It made him feel a bit better, honestly, now that Dean was in fact attached. “Thank you, Sam, though that doesn’t tell me anything about how to go about making this holiday meaningful for him.” If anything it just added more pressure, since apparently neither of them knew what they were doing. “What are you and Eileen doing?”

“We’re going out. I made reservations at that fancy French place downtown. So, you know... might be out late.” His eyebrows raised suggestively, but Cas wasn’t totally sure what he was suggesting.

“So couples tend to celebrate with food and... fornication?” 

Sam’s cheeks turned suspiciously pink, but he gave a reluctant shrug and nod anyway. “Yeah. That.”

Cas’ gaze narrowed. Not so different to Lupercalia than he initially thought.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, man,” Sam said on the tail end of a yawn. He rose to his feet to head to bed and gave Cas a supportive “I believe in you” on his way out of the library.

“That makes one of us,” Cas muttered to himself.

_____

It was a silly idea to be sure, but at the time Cas thought it was brilliant. 

He was going to make Dean dinner. 

Afterall, they were going to have the bunker to themselves; Dean loved nothing more than food; and the prospect of showing Dean how much he meant to him through an act of service was Cas’ exact brand of love language. The only issue was that Cas didn’t know how to eat, let alone cook, but all the blogs on the internet had told him that this was the most romantic option to spice up a long-term relationship. And maybe they didn’t quite fall under that category only having gotten together recently, but it felt wrong to dismiss the years of foundational legwork it took to get them here. So, he counted it, as well as the change in the pocket of his trench coat as he stood in line at the grocery store, and he found he was coming up a few dollars short of the total.

“This is all I have,” he offered meagerly. 

The cashier smacked his gum as Cas held out the crumbled bills and change. They dropped onto the conveyor belt with a ping and the cashier’s face read unimpressed. “You’ll have to put something back then,” he suggested, motioning to the next person in line. 

“You don’t understand. I need all of these ingredients,” Cas countered. “It’s Valentine’s Day and everything has to be perfect.”

“Should’ve thought of that when you didn’t bring enough cash, old man.” 

The red, shimmering cupid’s dangling from the ceiling taunted him. Leaning over the counter, Cas grabbed him by the shirt collar and the cashier swallowed his gum. “I may be ‘old’ but I can still smite you. You will give me what I need now or else—”

“Okay, okay, Jesus! Just take your shit and go, dude!”

Releasing him, Cas shrank with a subtle nod, smoothing out his dress shirt. “Thank you,” he said with a tight smile, collecting his bags. “Have a nice Valentine’s Day.”

_____

Sam and Eileen left within the hour and Dean was still out on a milk run in the neighboring town, something about the novel concept of a ghost in a graveyard, which just so happened to be the right amount of time Cas thought it would take for him to thoughtfully throw this dinner together before he returned. He’d found a recipe for oysters that came highly recommended by the other people on the internet. He recalled reading somewhere that oysters were an aphrodisiac as well, so surely killing two birds with one stone couldn’t be a bad thing-- no animal sacrifice puns intended.

Feeling newly confident in himself, Cas set about getting his ingredients together. It was quite a lengthy list and he couldn’t really fathom how tasting that many complex flavors at once could possibly yield to an enjoyable experience, but Dean had stuffed his face with more things in one sitting than this, so Cas felt rest-assured that Dean wouldn’t find the meal too off-putting.

Step one was shucking the oysters. 

In theory, this was simple. 

In practice, there was a lot of blood.

____

“Honey, I’m home,” Dean called as he shut the bunker door. 

The hunt was easy, but things got a little hairy there for a minute. Nothing Dean couldn’t handle, of course, he was just supremely glad to be home. His sweatpants were practically screaming his name. Ascending the steps into the library, Dean paused and sniffed the air, detecting the distinct scent of burning food and muttered curses. He set his duffel down carefully.

“Cas?”

“I’m in the kitchen,” Cas called back after a tense moment.

Within moments, Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He stood there frozen, taking in the sight of Cas; white shirt covered in blood; hair electrified; as smoke billowed from the saute pan on the stovetop. To his benefit, there were only a few food splatters on the walls and the counters and it wasn’t like he couldn’t just mop the floors again, even though he could’ve sworn he just cleaned the place the other day.

“Where’s Sam and Eileen?” he managed to ask. 

“Out. How was the hunt?” Cas asked breezily.

“Bloody,” Dean answered absently. “What’s all this?” 

Truthfully, Dean didn’t look much better himself. He was covered in grave dirt and old blood. His own hair was a tousled mess. They made quite the pair, really.

“It was supposed to be dinner,” Cas sighed. He picked up the dish towel and placed the cover on the risotto out of his own sense of shame. Out of sight, out of mind.

“You... made me dinner?”

“Well, I certainly tried, though, I’m afraid I may have failed. I found a recipe for— it doesn’t matter. Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean.” 

Dean’s face slowly morphed into something soft around the edges. Sympathetic. He’d forgotten all about the holiday, if he were being honest, but the sight before him now was tugging on his heartstrings. Nobody ever made him dinner before.

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” he found himself saying, “There’s gotta be something here that’s still edible.” 

Rounding the center island, he came to stand beside him, resting a reassuring hand to Cas’ shoulder as he surveyed the mess of burnt and bubbling pots on the stove. The silence from him now was deafening even to his own ears. 

“You should go clean up,” suggested Cas, “I’ll try to salvage what I can here.”

Before Dean scampered off to the showers, he tugged Cas in for a soft, lingering kiss. “I’m gonna love whatever you made because you made it,” he murmured against his lips with a fond smile that Cas couldn’t help but return.

“Thank you, Dean.”

It was the fastest shower Dean had ever taken in his life. He changed as quickly as possible too, but who could blame him? This was the first time in all his 40 some odd years on this floating space rock where he had the opportunity to celebrate this stupid little holiday right. Sure, he’d forgotten, but that wasn’t important because coming home to Cas making him dinner sure was a thing a guy could get used to more often. 

So, the domesticity was nice. 

Sue him. 

He was practically skipping down the hallway back towards the kitchen with excitement as Cas was just finishing up setting the table… for one.

Dean skidded to a halt, confusion overtaking his face. “You’re not eating any?”

Carefully placing the cutlery on the napkin, Cas turned his head to look at him with a signature head tilt. “No,” he said simply. 

“Why not?”

With a sigh, Cas straightened. “Well, aside from the fact I don’t require it, nor am I able to enjoy it properly, there was only enough for one and since the rest I managed to burn it’s only fair you shouldn’t have to split it.”

It made sense, but Dean knew he was pouting about it anyway. He was quick to take his seat at the table however— hunting sure can work up a guy’s appetite— and he might’ve only gone soft just a little when he noticed Cas had lit an ugly little heart shape candle. 

He poked at it, fighting back a smile. He lifted the lid on his plate to reveal the few meager and burnt offerings Cas had scrapped from the stove and his stomach grumbled in protest. It wasn’t too late to make a drive thru run for burgers, his stomach supplied, but Dean forced it to quiet as he picked up a fork. 

“This is nice, Cas. Thank you.” 

Cas shoulders sagged as he took the seat across from him. “Please, don’t patronize me, Dean. If you hate it I’d rather you just tell me.”

“Hey, I’m not patronizing. Whatever this is, I’m gonna eat it. Just watch me.” 

Hesitantly, he lifted his fork to spear something that had probably once been green, but was now a charred shade of brown. Crunchy too. It tasted like charcoal as he choked it down. But he considered himself a pretty decent actor and made all the appropriate moaning noises to really sell it and Cas seemed into it if his intense staring was anything to go by. Dean blushed behind his wine glass. That’s when Cas leapt to his feet again with a newfound sense of purpose. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, an honest to God grin splitting his face now, as he made a dash towards the refrigerator. 

He pulled out a platter of sorts as Dean looked on, feeling uneasy. This food was bad enough and he couldn’t fathom there’d be more, but he pasted on another good faith smile as Cas headed back to the table with it. 

“I don’t know how it slipped my mind,” Cas said with a shake of his head. He set the platter down in front of Dean then and watched as a healthy dose of skepticism filled his face. 

“Uh, Cas,” he said with a tight gulp, “I think you forgot to cook this one, man.”

Now, Dean’s seen some weird persqueeter in the past, but none of those girls compared to whatever the hell he was looking at right now. His face screwed up at the smell of low tide and vinegar. 

“No, Dean. They’re oysters. The recipe called for them to be raw.” At Dean’s persisting hesitance, Cas frowned. “You hate it,” he surmised; the light fading slowly from his face. 

Dean wasn’t about to let that happen though, so he was quick to dissuade that line of thinking. Even if he really did hate shellfish. “No, no,” he said, plucking a half shell between his fingers. It was grey and slimy and even up close it resembled a hooker with the clap, but Dean smiled at Cas reassuringly before he mustered up the courage to slurp it back. 

Just as anticipated, it slid down his throat like a slug and it was fifty different shades of wrong, but the weirdest thing happened then: Dean found it actually tasted… kinda good. 

“What’s in these?” he asked, picking up another one. He was ready for it now so he tossed it back much more readily and at the sight that little light in Cas’ eyes began to flicker back to life. 

Cas babbled off the recipe from the blog, his voice tinged with enthusiasm now for the first time all night. Much like the intro on a recipe blog, Dean didn’t retain any of that information, but he knew then that he’d endure about a hundred more of these disgusting things if it meant he could keep that look on Cas’ face. 

Though, that look of pride morphed into something decidedly more impure as Dean continued eating. 

“Did you know that oysters are considered an aphrodisiac, Dean?” His eyes were lingering on Dean’s lips, wet with oyster juice and whatever else was on them.

“An aphro- what?”

“An aphrodisiac. The Romans considered them particularly beneficial when it came to… increasing libido.” Cas paused here, watching as Dean set down the yet another empty half shell. He swallowed this one slowly, hoping beyond hope he was picking up what Cas was putting down here. 

“You trying to get me horny, Cas?”

“I might be,” he replied, innocuous enough. “It’s come to my recent understanding that this holiday is reserved for eating and engaging in sexual intercourse, and while I may be ill-equipped to eat, I’d like to think I’m more than equipped to provide the second.”

They hadn’t done that much yet. This was all still new to both of them, but his brain was doing a really bad job at offering up counter-arguments. 

Choking a bit, Dean swallowed another, looking at Cas’ dark stare with a newfound sense of hunger growing in the pit of his stomach. “How late did Sam and Eileen say they’d be out again?”

“Late,” Cas supplied with a weirdly indicative eyebrow raise.

“Right,” Dean gulped, awkwardly scrambling to right himself. There was no denying the fact his blood had been flowing south for the majority of his meal and it was no thanks in part to the rapt way Cas had been eyeing him for most of it. He didn’t know about all the aphrodisiac stuff and he doubted it worked through osmosis, but if Cas wanted to do him and this holiday right, Dean was in no position to argue. 

Grabbing Cas by the front of his shirt, Dean hauled him to his feet and into a sloppy kiss, encouraging him to follow along as he walked them both towards the bedroom. “C’mon, Cas,” he gasped between enthusiastic rolls of his tongue, “Let’s go test that theory of yours.”

If Dean was on the bottom both times, that was nobody’s business but theirs.


End file.
